"Only a 'good' record would give a slave such a chance," Army answered. "Plotting any act of rebellion is so difficult. What with the loyalty of the slaves from Keld and the chance that a slave born on this continent would trade in his countrymen for a little luxury."
"How could any slave conspire to escape or do injury?" Gravel questioned sarcastically.
"Well, he would have to try talking to virgin meat captured recently and be careful never to say anything too inflammatory," Army reflected.
"Keep his identity and face secret?" Gravel wondered.
"Yes, friend," Army paused for a moment. "Of course, one might wonder why anyone would be so foolish to contemplate resistance at all. Especially when anyone can betray you."
"To do nothing is to betray yourself," Gravel hissed.
Haddad realized the chance the two men were taking. He was marked for special consideration, and they stood in considerable danger. But since he had survived the first weeding out on the plains, he was probably more subtle in rebellion than the soldiers devoured by birds.
"Greetings, warrior," Army said loudly. "We are to take this slave to the Artificer Latulla's household. We are waiting for escort."
"A few minutes more, slave." The Keldon warrior loomed before Haddad. His helmet and armor were black in the sun, and Haddad could smell leather as sweat and water ran down the warrior's uniform. A canteen swung on the warrior's belt, wet from being refilled in the water-carrier's bucket.
"Malk!" the warrior bellowed. Another Keldon, yards away, turned from an unloading barge. At the shouter's gesture, Malk came striding over, the butt of his spear leading the way as he shoved slaves aside. His exit left a gap in the line that slowly closed as warriors shuffled into new positions. This reorganization opened another hole in the guard line, and a woman threw herself through the gap.
She was fair and blonde and might have been pretty without the fear distorting her features. The line of women that Haddad could now see was screened from sight as additional warriors moved into position. The Keldon who let the woman through turned to follow, rage at being outwitted plain on his features. The angry warrior would not have caught her except the woman bounced off slaves and then tripped, sprawling to the ground. The slaves, such a formidable barrier to the woman, parted instantaneously before the angry Keldon following her. The warrior stooped to haul the woman to her feet, but she flailed with such energy that he could not get a grip. The woman scooted away, kicking at the Keldon's face, cloth tearing as the warrior snatched at her limbs and clothing. Haddad wondered how someone so rash had escaped becoming meat for the parea.
"She will bring fierce warriors into the world, Malk," the sweating warrior said as Malk arrived and turned to see the struggle. The street was a stadium with the audience watching a farcical battle. The slaves on the street showed nothing, but Haddad could feel their cheers for the futile defiance the woman showed. The Keldons found the battle amusing as well because the slave was so overmatched but still battling a warrior to a stalemate.
"Perhaps there are still heroes born here," Malk said facetiously as he watched the exasperated warrior, bent over and pursuing the woman. Haddad was reminded of a housewife chasing down a chicken, though the final fate of the chicken was a grim counterpoint to the scene in front of him.
The warrior hovering over the woman still couldn't get a good grip. Long tattered strands of cloth whipped into his face, and the woman's garments tore in his metal gauntlets. Laughing warriors surrounded the pair. Haddad could see a tight cluster of spear points moving through the crowd and approaching the struggle. The Keldon warriors moved aside for greater authority as the slaves had parted for the warrior trying to capture the fleeing woman. Then the guard hit the woman with a closed fist.
Everything seemed to pause. The woman lay on the ground, her body limp as blood poured from a gash the gauntlet inflicted. Her face was washed away as blood covered her features and pooled on the ground. The laughter on the lips of the guards watching the fight disappeared in a disbelieving gasp, and then every Keldonexcept the guard kneeling with horror over the injured woman-drew and raised weapons.
"Stop!" The voice was high, and Haddad wondered what slave dared speak. The cluster of spear carriers forced its way to the woman, and the guard line opened. A Keldon woman stood revealed. Smaller than any of the warriors around her, she nevertheless dominated the Keldons and slaves as surely as a giant. "Care for the girl, now."
A stretcher team, composed of slaves, was there in seconds, and the guards stayed still, tense with expectation. Haddad was shocked to see a slave place his hand over the kneeling warrior's face and shove him away like a bothersome sheep. The slaves applied compresses to the woman's head and rushed her away. The warrior who injured her hurried to his knees and knelt before the woman of his race.
"Who commands this trash?" the female Keldon demanded, gesturing at the kneeling warrior. "I want him before me." The attentive guards rushed off to do her bidding as the slave woman's blood soaked into the offender's clothes. The warrior had knelt directly on the site of the struggle, as if trying to erase the evidence. Haddad was mystified. With all the casual and deliberate brutality he had seen, why should this woman's injury matter?
"I thank the gods I am not in that squad," Malk said quietly as he watched the Keldon warriors searching for the commander of the man who incurred such wrath from the crowd. The warrior guarding Haddad shook his head in agreement.
"To strike a cradle woman in the presence of a midwife. To call down the curse of all women upon him and his fellows." Haddad's guard knew some of the warriors effected, and it showed in his tone. "All crafts and worked goods are turned from them. No luck on the battlefield, no chance to sire future warriors until the curse is repealed. No provocation is worth that." The Keldon spat on the ground in contempt.
A large Keldon warrior pushed his way through the crowd, his finer armor showing high rank. The leader bowed his head without word or salutation and stood ready to accept whatever the midwife might say.
"You have failed Keld. One under your command struck a future mother because she showed the spirit your subordinate so sorely lacks. You will excuse yourself from the ranks of warriors and report to the ship bound for Keld when you have finished your current business."
"Yes, Midwife," the commander replied. "I will attend you tomorrow."
The woman spat on the Keldon kneeling in the blood while his commanding officer looked on. Rage made the commander's face into a demon's mask. The midwife and her retainers withdrew, the circle of spears working its way back through the crowd.
The now disgraced leader pointed to the kneeling warrior rocking back and forth in silent distress.
"Hold him and still his tongue." Five warriors attached themselves in an instant-one for each limb and one gagging the prisoner with leather laces.
"I strike twice as is my right," the leader halfscreamed, and blows from an armored boot crippled the prisoner, crushing the knees and tearing the flesh. Haddad could hear a muffled scream of pain as the commander gestured for the rest of his unit to approach.
"In striking a cradle wife this scum struck at Keld, at my honor, and at the honor of all his comrades. Return the blows that he has inflicted on us all." The surrounding warriors converged and began a slow, measured barrage of kicks to the body on the ground. Haddad could hear individual blows breaking bones as the slaves and the two Keldon guards led him away.
"I almost joined his attack group," the unnamed guard said as they walked away.